Sherlolly Convos
by SirKriS
Summary: I'm going to my sherlolly conversations on here (most of them one-shots). I will try to add at least one story a week. If the rating needs to change over the next few chapters I will provide an Author's Note warning. Enjoy!
1. Balance of Probability

**Author's Note****: It's rated T for language (not too bad I think)**

**I originally wrote it in a script/chat-ish format but someone (thank you by the way) kindly reminded me that FFn doesn't allow it (oops). I hope it still works. I'll restrict my script-like writings to my tumblr. If you want to check them out in the future, I've provided my username on my profile.**

**_I do not own any characters I've written here._**

**Anywhooo, Enjoy!**

* * *

Molly looked up at him, eyebrows furrowed.

"Sherlock?"

"…"

"Sherlock are you alright?"

He darts a look at her before staring back ahead. "Yes of course I'm alright! Why would you ask me that?"

"Well it's just that, you look a bit…off." _'I'd say downright sick'_ Molly finished to herself.

" I'm not off I'm just—" Sherlock licked his lips, "thinking."

"About what?"

He grunted a sigh. "Are you aware of the morbid extent of roller coaster disasters? Even as a pathologist your stomach would churn at the mutilated casualties of victims. Not to mention the near shoddy maintenance work parks tend to give—"

"Sherlock!" Molly hissed. "Not here! You're scaring the passengers."

Sherlock looked behind to see everyone glaring at him. "Oh." He was quiet for a few moments before he asked, "Molly?"

"Yes, Sherlock?"

"Why are we sitting in the front row?"

"Because I wanted to," amusement in her voice, "and you looked offended when I offered to take a different seat since it's your first time."

**The intercom overhead cracked, "Please keep you head back and your arms in the carriage at all times. Enjoy the ride."**

The sleek roller-coaster puttered to life and suddenly jerked forward. Startled, Sherlock screamed "MOLLY!" as he clutched onto her arm for dear life.

Barely able to stifle a giggle, "We haven't even started yet."

"Right" he relaxed, letting go of her arm. Trying not to look embarrassed, Sherlock took a deep breath and settled back further into the seat.

**After a minute, the roller-coaster slowed to a stop at the peak of the drop.**

"Sherlock?"

"What is it Molly?" he hissed.

"Don't look down."

"Look down? Why would—"

* * *

**Back at 221B Baker Street. Molly and Sherlock walk upstairs to his flat to find John and Mary waiting for them.**

"Hey guys!" John welcomed them brightly. "So how was the park?"

"Terribly boring," Sherlock responded as he tugged off his Belstaff. "Won't be going back anytime soon."

John and Mary shared a look, eyebrows raised. "Oh really?" they asked simultaneously.

Sherlock froze as he was about to hang his coat and narrowed his eyes at them. "What, what is it?" he asked sharply.

John grinned widely. "Nothing if you say so," failing miserably to choke back a laugh.

* * *

**_- Mary's phone -_**

_Molly: Sherlock?_

_Sherlock: What is it Molly?_

_Molly: Don't look down._

_Sherlock: Look down? Why would—AAAAARRRRGHHHHHHH-OOOOOOOOWW-MY-FUCKING-COD-BUGGGER-SHIIIIIIIEET-GET-ME-OFFF-I'M-GONNA-DIEEEEE_

_Molly: *laughing* wooohoooo!_

_Sherlock: THIS-ISN'T-FUNNY-AAAAAAAAAAARGGGH!_

* * *

John and Mary were laughing their heads off, all courteous demeanor lost. Sherlock just stood their looking properly appalled.

Molly walked over to the couple and jutted out her palm. "You owe me 50 quid. Each."

Sherlock threw her what could only be described as a scathing look.

Mary gladly gave her share as John wiped his tears.

"Sherlock how can you be afraid of roller-coasters?" He dug into his wallet to give Molly her notes. "You chase murderers and psychopaths for a living!"

"I am not afraid!" Sherlock huffed. "I just…prefer to have some semblance of control over my adrenaline-related activities."

* * *

**_- Mary's Phone -_**

_Molly: Sherlock…are you crying?_

_Sherlock: *sniffs* Who in the hell would do that for fun?_

* * *

Sherlock grabbed Mary's phone and promptly turned it off. "Alright that's quite enough." He was blushing furiously.

Mary wrinkled her nose in delight. "Wow Molly, how did you know he was going to freak out?"

"Oh I don't know, _balance of probability_?" Molly grinned mischievously at Sherlock.

He turned sharply to face her. "You didn't…"

* * *

**_- Sherlock's Phone -_**

_My, my brother mine. We're quite the screamer aren't we? And the tears! Can't wait to show Mummy. –MH_

* * *

Sherlock looked up from his phone and glared at her.

"Revenge for drugging my tea with an experimental anesthetic!"

He threw his arms exasperated. "Oh come on really? I didn't expect it to last more than half an hour" he explained, as if that justified his actions.

"It lasted a week, Sherlock! A week! And I had a bloody presentation! With the _executives_ of Barts!"

* * *

**_- Sherlock's Phone -_**

_Oh this is gold! I will never let you live this down – DI G.L_

_I'm putting this on Youtube dear – x_

* * *

"MRS. HUDSON!" Sherlock bellowed to the stairs.


	2. Goodnight

_**Sherlock gets creative about handling Toby.**_

**Author's Note: It started off as a drabble then got a bit long.**

**Hope you like it :)**

**__****I don't own any characters I write here.**

* * *

"Uh Sherlock?" Molly walked out of the bathroom, having just washed her face, to see a pair of amber eyes staring at her.

"Hm?" Sherlock responded, not looking up from her laptop.

"Who is that?"

He finally looked up to see whom she was referring to. "Oh, that's Meredith."

She waited for him to elaborate but he just refocused back on the screen, typing away.

"And what is she doing in my flat?"

Sherlock realized she wasn't going to stop badgering her with stunted questions so he shut the laptop and jumped to his feet.

"Her purpose is to keep your cat preoccupied. I assumed his insufferable attachment to your bed was because he needed a female companion hence—" he pointed to the orange tabby on the floor "—Meredith." He looked quite proud of himself, bouncing on his heels as he waited for her praise.

"So" she began carefully, "you bought a cat…so you could…cuddle with me?"

"Cu-I don't—" he spluttered "must you use such a sentimental term?" A spot of scarlet was coloring his cheeks.

A smile tugged at her lips. "Should I say _cozy up_ then?" wrinkling her nose and squinting her eyes for maximum teasing effect.

He turned away, suddenly very interested in the hard case cover of the laptop before resuming back to whatever he was working on. He tried to look offended, but Molly could see his embarrassed smile.

Molly bit her bottom lip in amusement and walked to her room to get dressed for work.

* * *

**-Later that night-**

Molly was sound asleep when she heard Sherlock yell.

"OH FOR GOD'S SAKE!"

She startled awake. "Sherlock what is it?" Molly could only see his outline at the doorframe, it was clear he was pointing rudely at her bedside. Molly turned to see what caused his outburst. Sure enough, Toby and Meredith were curled together on what normally would be Sherlock's side of the bed.

Molly just sighed. "Sherlock it's 2am. Let this one go for tonight yeah?" and dug her head further into her pillow.

Suddenly Molly squeaked.

"Wha- what are you doing!?"

Sherlock had picked her up and was now ceremoniously carrying her out of the room.

"Moving you."

"You thought it would be easier moving me than the cats" she asked a little irritated but she couldn't help being somewhat amused by his bizarre solution.

He looked down at her. "You know very well that Toby would claw my eyes off if I so much as nudge him in any way."

Molly indifferently shrugged._ Can't argue with that,_ she thought.

"No matter, there is the spare bedroom."

"Wait, I thought you said the mattress wasn't to your liking, or some rubbish like that." She was trying to look annoyed and dignified but it was difficult when she was being cradled like a baby.

"If you may recall, that was the reason you used my bed as a bolt hole."

"I lied" he explained simply. "I just wanted to share a bed with you."

Molly just scoffed as he carefully placed her on the empty bed before turning to the shut door. As she got comfortable under the sheets, Sherlock slid in beside her and snuggled closer to her, his chin nestled on her head.

Molly hugged the arms that now surrounded her and teased, "See? You do cuddle."

He mumbled something along the lines of _shut up_ into her hair.

A few moments of silence passed.

"So why Meredith?" she asked.

"Hmm?"

"Why name the cat Meredith?"

He paused. "Oh I don't know. First name I saw on the obituary page."

Molly burst into giggles. He responded by tugging her closer.

"And you call me morbid." She felt a chuckle rumble from him.

"Goodnight Molly."

"Goodnight Sherlock."

* * *

**Author's Note: I just realized people may think the teasing Molly I write is a bit OC but after that "quite a lot of sex" scene I just got the impression she likes to mess with people. I'm pretty sure she was teasing Sherlock then because she looked like she was smiling from the side as he looked on awkwardly (how I wish they added her reaction that to the scene). And she wasn't flustered by her declaration, leaving me to assume it was deliberate. But then again, I watch BBC Sherlock with thick sherlolly goggles on so I could be wrong.**


	3. Cat Problems

_**Sherlock is tired of Toby hogging his pathologist every night.**_

**Author's Note: I know this is another cat thing but it's stand-alone from 'Goodnight' so it doesn't get confusing. Remember, every chapter on here is a one-shot :)**

**Now THIS is a proper drabble.**

_**I don't own any characters I write here**_

* * *

Molly woke up before Sherlock. It took a moment to untangle herself from him—the man can _cuddle_—and was on her way to brew a fresh pot of coffee when she nearly stumbled over a fuzzy body by the doorstep. Looking down she realized it was Toby… and he wasn't moving.

"Sherlock!" she screeched.

"Mmm-what?" Sherlock stirred awake.

"What did you do to my cat?!"

He got up briefly to squint at the commotion. "Oh" he fell back on the bed. "I put a little catnip by the door yesterday so he wouldn't worm his way in here."

"A little!?" she couldn't hide the hint of hysteria in her voice. "He's out cold on his back!"

"hmmm" he mumbled into his pillow, "I'll adjust the quantity next time."

"_Next time_" she repeated incredulously. After ensuring he was still breathing, Molly stepped over them and got breakfast ready, muttering as she stabbed Sherlock's eggs vindictively.


	4. Shopping

**Summary: Sherlock buys the groceries. John is shocked to bits.**

**Setting: Molly and Sherlock have John and Mary over at Baker Street for afternoon tea. John discovers something surprising about his ex-roommate.**

* * *

"Wait. Did you just say that Sherlock goes grocery shopping?" John interrupted. Molly had been complaining to Mary about how Sherlock always switches out the biscuits when they go shopping.

"Yeah," Molly answered uncertainly. "Why that weird?"

John turned to face his ex-roommate, whose face was buried in the newspaper.

"Sherlock." The consulting detective sat further into the couch, making sure his face was still covered.

"Sherlock!"

He finally put the paper down in exasperation. "Yes John! I buy groceries. I see no reason for you to cause a ruckus about it."

"I couldn't get you to dump out the expired milk in the _refrigerator_ let alone get your lazy bum to the supermarket!"

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Well you can't blame me for having a slow metabolism."

"No, no don't even try that," John said as he pointed at him. "I _know_ you used to starve me out just so I could buy us groceries."

Mary grinned widely at their exchange before she turned to ask Molly.

"So does he always join you?"

"Well yeah. Though lately he's been insisting on going on his own."

John did a double-take. "By him—by himself?" He looked back accusingly at Sherlock. The man was still hiding behind a paper, which after squinting, John realized was a week old.

"Oh, didn't Sherlock tell you dear?" Mrs. Hudson walked into the room and pulled a chair to sit by Mary. "He doesn't want you going to that supermarket anymore."

"Oh do come in, make yourself comfortable" Sherlock said sarcastically.

"Don't give me that tone young man," Mrs. Hudson tutted. "I have your mother on speed dial." John watched incredulously as Sherlock cowered further into the couch. _Wow, so much has changed_, he thought as he shook his head.

"Anyway, where was I?" The landlady struggled to recall.

"Something about him not wanting Molly at the supermarket." Mary reminded.

"Oh, right! Well he thinks that one friendly cashier has a thing for you."

Molly turned to the landlady, confused. "Who? Cody?"

Sherlock dropped the paper, a scowl on his face. "You even know his name?"

Molly shrugged. "He gives us extra coupons."

"_No_," Sherlock jumped up. "He gives _you_ extra coupons when he's not gawking at your behind or trying to sneak his number in the grocery bags."

Mary was biting her lip not to laugh while John had resorted to pinching his nose to stay quiet as Molly replied.

"Sherlock," Molly said patiently. "He's not the only cashier in the supermarket. You didn't have to trouble yourself shopping alone."

"Trouble himself?" Mrs. Hudson laughed. "He was trying to get the poor lad fired earlier this week."

John bent over in laughter at that. Just when he thought he had recovered he turned to see a very pink-faced Sherlock glaring at him and doubled over again.

Molly was having a hard time not to giggle as she walked over to Sherlock. He had curled up on the couch, back facing the tickled guests.

"Oh, Sherlock."

"Sherlock," Molly called again she tried to pull him to face her. "I'm sorry, I didn't know. Would it be better if we hold hands when we go shopping next time?"

Sherlock didn't budge.

"I'll even kiss you in front of Cody" she offered. "Hell, snog you if you want."

Sherlock turned to face her to see if she was serious.

"…If you must," he said in the most indifferent voice he could muster.

Molly giggled as she gave her boyfriend a soft peck on the lips. "Thank you. Now will you stop pouting and be a good host?" Sherlock tried not to smile as he obediently sat up to face everyone again. He glanced at John who was staring at him.

"Shut up John."

John looked at him bewildered. "I didn't even say anything!"

"You were thinking it."

John just shook his head. _I will never, ever get over seeing this side of Sherlock_.

* * *

**Author's Note: I tried to make it funny. Not sure if I achieved that.**

**Thanks for reading ^_^**


	5. Lizzie's Birthday

**A/N****: It's Elizabeth Watson's 2nd Birthday! The usual crowd has gathered and Sherlock manages to get jealous all on his own.**

**I originally wrote this story in chat form on Tumblr. Don't know if it's still funny this way.**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

Molly was the last to arrive. "Hey everyone! Sorry I'm late. Got caught up in traffic" she said as she hung up her coat by the wall.

"Aunt Mollyyyyyy!" A bundle of blonde curls bounced to her direction and hugged her legs tight. She bent down to lay a kiss on the excited girl's head.

"Hey Lizzie. Happy birthday! Do you feel grown up yet?"

Elizabeth nodded enthusiastically. "All grown up!" She looked behind Molly if she had brought her favourite feline.

"Where's Toby?"

Molly softly ran her hands through Elizabeth's hair. "I'm sorry dear. Toby had to stay home today." She could see her deflate in disappointment. "But he wishes you happy birthday too and hopes you visit him soon."

Her face lit up all over again. "With Uncle Sherly?" The birthday girl turned to the grouching man on the couch then back at her in giddy expectation.

Molly glanced at Sherlock nervously. "Yeah, I'll ask Toby about it first okay?"

Elizabeth showed off her toothy grin. "Okay." She lifted her arms up expectantly for Molly to pick her up. Aunt Molly happily complied as she twirled the girl around and nuzzled her nose to tease out a giggle from her.

As much as Sherlock loved his God daughter, he still couldn't bring himself to enjoy public functions. Molly's arrival did peak his interest though, especially as he watched her and Elizabeth interact.

"Oh, look at that," Mrs. Hudson cooed, at Molly and Elizabeth. "She'll be a wonderful mother one day."

Sherlock was about to allow a smile to form when he suddenly felt like he was being watched. Turning around, he saw John and Mary looking at him pointedly, then back at Molly.

'What?' he mouthed back at them, before sinking back into the couch.

Lestrade, who was also watching Molly chuckled.

"Yeah, she's great with the little one isn't she? My kids absolutely adore her."

Sherlock jerked his head so fast at that he almost got whiplash. Mary smirked at him.

John, who hadn't seen the consulting detective's reaction was intrigued by the revelation.

"Molly, you babysit Greg's kids?"

She blushed slightly at the sudden attention she was getting. "Well, yeah. I've been friends with Greg for a long time and known his kids since they were babies. I've had some free time ever since my promotion so I help Greg out by watching them."

Sherlock, whose eyes had narrowed at the surprising familiarity between Lestrade and Molly was suddenly lost.

Lestrade caught on to Sherlock's confusion for he provided, "I'm Greg you twit."

Comprehension dawned on his face before he fell back to his feigned state of indifference. He was listening very carefully.

"How old are they?" Mary asked as she side-glanced at Sherlock. She knew he was listening avidly.

Lestrade gushed at the opportunity to talk about his children. "Matt is 8 and Emma will be 12 next month. Little troublemakers. They keep trying to get me to ask Molly— "

"PHILIP!" Sherlock screamed as he walked towards a perturbed Anderson that had just walked in. "How nice of you to join us." Anderson shook his hand uncertainly. He couldn't help wondering if it was some kind of trick.

"Uh thanks?

Everyone else, well except Mary of course, looked on in confusion. Elizabeth had giggled at Sherlock's outburst. Mary pulled John aside to whisper to John.

"He's jealous." She knew he got it when he bopped himself on the head.

"You didn't come along with your wife then?" Sherlock was still trying to distract everyone with his odd pleasantries. Mary wasn't going to let him.

"So Greg you were saying?" she asked.

Lestrade had been watching Sherlock and Anderson in disturbed fascination when he realized he had been talked to. "What? Oh yeah. They want me to ask—"

"Has anyone seen the remote?" He was really throwing people off now, especially Anderson who had been in the middle of explaining how his wife was expecting. But John had been brought up to speed and helped his wife in her devious cause.

"Shut up Sherlock, I wanna hear this. Greg, go on."

"Okay" He could tell something was going on but it was beyond him as to what. "It's not really a big deal. They just want me to convince Molly to—"

Sherlock whirled to face him, his face the perfect portrayal of raw panic.

"—adopt her into the family," he laughed. "Cute buggers think of her as a big sister. Dunno how she does it."

Mary thought it was such a shame as she watched Sherlock slip back into his obnoxious self. She would bet good money a choir was singing 'Halelujah' with gusto in his head at the moment. She resigned to tittering in the background with her husband as they watched him.

"Anderson," Sherlock asked, "why are you here again?"

"Huh?" Lestrade, Mrs. Hudson, and Molly all joined Anderson to throw the consulting detective a perplexed look.

Only the Watsons were in touch with the situation. It was amazing no one had noticed them sniggering at the corner. Even Elizabeth seemed to be in on it for she happily pointed to the desserts behind Molly, calling out for one in particular.

"Jello!"


	6. Tiramisu

**A/N****: Sherlock learns that Molly loves Tiramisu**

* * *

Sherlock was about to walk into the morgue when he heard Molly moan, quite seductively he would say.  
"Good Lord that's sinful. Did you really make this?"  
Someone laughed. Mary? he wondered."Yeah, I've picked up a sweet tooth and John can't cater to every craving of mine so I'm resorted to making them myself. Sorry it looks so…sloppy."  
"Like it?" Molly asked incredusouly. "I LOVE it! My favorite dessert in the world."  
Sherlock moved up closer to peak through the crack by the door hinge to see what they were talking about. Mary was gushing over a rather large pan of tiramisu.  
Mary's eyes wrinkled with amusement. "That much huh?"  
Molly shook her head. "No, you don't understand. I would marry anyone off the street that could make a good pan of this stuff,"she said as she ate another spoonful of the dessert.  
"Ugh! Glorious."  
"Well I'll make sure to send you some from now on" she winked. "Gotta go! My shift starts in a few minutes. You can bring the dish back tomorrow or something."  
Sherlock didn't take into account how close Mary was to the door and would have crashed into her had he not hugged the wall on her way out.  
She was about to ask what the hell was doing when he gave her an imploring look. Mary raised her eyebrows inquisitively but said nothing. She was rather surprised when Sherlock chose to not to go into the morgue. After all, she had somewhere else to be.

* * *

Several days Later

Molly walked into the morgue to find Sherlock seated in front of the regular microscope.  
"Oh, hi Sherlock!" she greeted cheerfully.  
"Molly," he responded politely without looking up.  
She would have kicked up a fuss about his blunt response had she not spotted a cream colored desert box on the table next to him.  
"Is this yours?" she asked curiously.  
"I don't eat while I'm working," was his vague answer.  
"Okay," she said slowly as she opened the box to take a peek. A squeal escaped from her mouth when she saw the most delectable piece of tiramisu she ever had laid eyes on.  
"Oh, My Gosh!"  
Sherlock took a side glance and saw her face had flushed. He muffled a satisfied smile with a loud sniff.  
Molly didn't notice anything though, for she had already reached in to grab the small fork and cut a piece out to taste. In fact, it seemed that she had forgotten he was in the room altogether as she hummed her delight.  
"Heavenly," she whispered as she took another mouthful, and another. Her eyes were shut now so Sherlock was able to watch her more freely. He quickly turned back to look at the slide when she snapped out of her dream bubble.  
"Oh, sorry Sherlock," she blushed. "I got a bit carried away."  
"Don't mind me, I know how to filter things out."  
She laughed at his reply. "Yes, I'm sure. Oh, right!" she said suddenly, reaching out to grab her cell phone. "I've got to thank Mary." Sherlock started at her words. He hadn't expected things to go there.  
"Hello, Mary? Thank you so much for the tiramisu. It's made my day," she gushed.  
"What tiramisu?"  
Molly frowned. "You didn't leave me a box in the lab?"  
"No, I don't think so. Wait, is Sherlock there?"  
"Sherlock? Yeah why?" she asked as she faced the person in question. Sherlock's hair was standing on end when he realized Mary was talking about him. He curled his toes nervously as he struggled to control the rising flush up his neck.  
"I think you should ask him." Molly could hear a smile in Mary's voice but had no clue as to why she would be happy about this.  
"Why—"  
"Sorry, I've got work to do. Talk to you later tah!"  
"Wai—" Molly began but Mary had already hung up. What was that about?  
"Sherlock?" She saw him jump this time. "Are you alright?" she asked in alarm. Molly had never seen him so wound up.  
He cleared his throat. "Yes, fine."  
"Okay?" She said uncertainly. He still wasn't looking at her so Molly couldn't quite tell what he was thinking at the moment. She would have inquired further about his odd behavior but was really more curious about the dessert and so asked,  
"Did you bring that tiramisu?"  
Sherlock drew out a slow breath because he swerved to face her.  
"Yes, I did."  
Molly gawked at his reaction, but waited patiently for him to continue. He just sat there looking at her.  
"For me." It came out more like a statement but Sherlock understood she wasn't sure and nodded.  
Molly could tell he was expecting her to say something, but had no idea what he wanted to hear.  
"Oh. Thanks?"  
Sherlock searched her face for several seconds before he sighed.  
"Nevermind," he said dejectedly and focused back on the microscope.

* * *

Molly puzzled over their exchange for the rest of the day. Sherlock didn't speak to after that, choosing to study his cultures in total silence. He barely told her goodbye before rushing out of the lab right before the end of her shift.  
As she was getting ready to leave, Mary walked into the morgue.  
"Molly!" Mary burst out cheerfully. "So did you talk to Sherlock? About the tiramisu I mean."  
"Yeah about that, he was being so weird about it!" And she plunged into her story about what happened after their phone call. Mary listened carefully, trying very hard to keep a straight face during the entire thing.  
"And you said thanks…that's it?"  
"Well what else was I supposed to say?"  
Mary covered her face. "Oh, poor Sherlock."  
Molly threw her a bewildered look. "What, did I miss something?"  
"Yeah, I'm afraid you did."


	7. Elevator

**A/N****: Molly wants to play a game with Sherlock. It involves a lot of self control and of course, an elevator.**

**I would describe this story as smuffy (sexy fluff). I think the rating is very T (I can't bring myself to bring my game up to M yet).**

**It's a bit longish, dunno how that happened. I will blame it on insomnia though.**

**Hope you like it anyway :)**

* * *

Molly's shift had ended and Sherlock and her were waiting for the elevator when an idea popped into her head.

"Sherlock let's play a game."

He's eyes quirked up in interest. "Oh? And what do you have in mind?"

"Let's see who can get the other to kiss them before we reach the bottom floor."

Sherlock raised his eyebrows at her. "We're only 3 floors up."

"Exactly," she grinned. "But if you're worried, the elevator is a bit slow so that might buy you time."

He scoffed. "Please, I'm certain I can unravel you by then." Molly laughed at his arrogance. "So," he asked expectantly, "what does the winner get?"

"Other than a good snog and a one over the other?"

Sherlock nodded, rather enthusiastically.

Molly pretended to think hard about it. "How about the loser must heed to one request, effective whenever the winner so chooses."

He grinned mischievously her. "Can it be anything?"

She shrugged. "Sure, so long as it doesn't make me break up with you."

"And what makes you think I won't break up with you because of your request?"

"Oh, so are we entertaining the possibility that you might actually lose?" she asked with exaggerated shock.

"Don't avoid the question."

She turned to look him dead in the eyes and said, "Then it would be your loss."

Sherlock stared at her for several before chuckled softly. "Yes it would, wouldn't it." Molly smiled brightly at his response.

"Alright," he clapped his hands enthusiastically. "So what are the rules?"

"We are to seduce the other one in any way possible—" she began.

"Yes obviously" Sherlock interrupted, rolling his eyes. The elevator chose that moment to open. "So shall we begin?" He was about to nudge her in when she shifted out of the way.

"Woah, I'm not finished," she made a mock-offended face.

He sighed and turned to face her again.

"We can seduce the other in any way possible, without talking or touching each other; clothes count too so don't get creative."

Sherlock gaped at her for so long that the elevator closed and left.

"But" he spluttered. "But that's impossible!"

"Oh, someone doesn't sound confident." It was so much fun teasing him. "You can forfeit if you want," she winked.

"Never," he said vehemently before pressing the elevator button.

"We both know I'll win this."

"Don't count your chickens before they hatch" she teased.

They walked in together and stood on separate ends of the elevator. Sherlock pushed the level floor button and lingered on the closing the closing button. "Ready?"

Almost immediately, Sherlock turned on his shouldering look. You know, the kind where he looked like he was slowly stripping her down to nothing. He had changed so fast that Molly didn't have time to mentally prepare herself.

She could feel her cheeks already warm up from his attention and cursed her reaction. Sherlock seemed to have noticed for a devious smirk rose up to his lips as he moved a bit closer.

They were a foot apart now and he was still not breaking their eye contact but she wasn't going to give up yet. Okay, she thought. Two can play at this game.  
Molly looked down at the floor and slowly lifted her eyes to his with the biggest doe eyes she could produce. Her eyes lingered on his lips before meeting his blue-green eyes again. She bit the side of her lower lip playfully as her eyes traveled down slowly down his body.

Molly knew Sherlock couldn't hold back his hyperactive imagination and so made sure to express herself leaving a trail of kisses on his torso and stop just short of his waist line. She saw him shiver in expectation and looked up to see how he was faring. His pupils were blown out wide, and he seemed to be struggling not to touch her.

Molly was so sure he was going to give in then that she figured she might as well go for the final kill and stare past his waist when he suddenly slammed his right palm against the wall next to her face. The unexpected move broke her concentration when she realized they were mere inches apart.

If she thought his gaze was intense before she was dead wrong. She was so glad she ruled out talking for she didn't think she would survive what his eyes were saying just then: I will take you right here, propriety be damned.

They were both affected, that much was obvious as their chests rose and fell in shallow breaths. Sherlock had bent down so far that their lips were almost aligned. Oh how she desperately wanted to give in and just kiss those lovely bowed lips. She would have too if he hadn't breathed a chuckle to indicate his presumed triumph.

The prospect that he knew she was just about to give in was enough to give her a moment of clarity to pull off a last ditch effort. Molly took advantage of their close proximity and brought her lips as close as possible to his ear without touching before she blew a slow and steady breath onto his ear.

"Oh, hell" he whispered before he pulled her to meet his lips onto hers. She didn't hesitate to weave her hands into his hair. Her fingers slid down to the base of his neck as he made open-mouthed kisses down her neckline. When he got to the sensitive spot near her collarbone she let out a gasped and tightened her grip on his hair.

The groan he let out sent a shot of pleasure through her as he hiked her leg up to his waist so he could grind into her. Molly moaned the sensation and Sherlock took that chance to bring his lips back to hers and pushing his tongue into her mouth to deepen the kiss. She loved how he tasted of coffee, a hint of cigarette and something uniquely Sherlock.

The hand that was resting against the wall was now exploring her sides and snaking up to brush the skin under her bra. Molly in turn wrapped her arms around his neck to pull him closer.

They were so entangled with each other that they didn't notice the elevator had long ago reached its destination, and that there was a rather embarrassed custodian trying to get their attention. The stranger's fifth cough was what finally alerted them to their uncomfortable audience.

The couple separated immediately and quickly walked out, mumbling apologies as they passed the elder man. They didn't look at each other until they were out of Barts before stopping to laugh at their audacious encounter. Molly couldn't bring herself to be ashamed about being caught, as she was still delirious from the high.

"So" she cleared her throat. "I think I uh, won that bet." She squinted up at him to see if he would deny it but was surprised to see a rather abashed face.

"Are—are you embarrassed that we got caught?" she asked incredulously.

"No," he mumbled. She peered closer to capture the next words.

"I'm somewhat appalled by the fact that we didn't even make it to the second floor before I lost."

Molly covered her mouth to muffled her laugh.

"Wow that short?" Sherlock looked like he was going to burn a hole in the ground.

"Oh come on," she cupped his face with her hands to make him face her. "Wouldn't you rather we finish what we started back at Baker Street?" His eyes glinted at that proposition.

It was absolutely remarkable how he could change so fast from embarrassment to utter delight. He placed his hands on her checks and gave her an enthusiastic kiss before tugging her forward to the streets to hail a cab.

Molly giggled when he happily shouted "Taxi!"

* * *

**A/N****: It wasn't too bad right? I have a short follow-up of what Molly's request is and had wanted to include here but it was going to get too long. I know I said that the stories on here are strictly one shots but if you're okay with it (do encourage me because I want to lol), I could upload it as the next chapter. Exceptions can be nice now and then.**

**Thanks for reading!**


	8. Request

**A/N:So here's the request follow up to the Elevator story. I really should stick to my one-shot rule on here. **

**Anyways Enjoy!**

* * *

Sherlock yawned awake and stretched over to cuddle with his pathologist when he realized his bedside was empty. Frowning, he got up to squint at the clock on the wall.

6:00am.

He groaned back into the pillow. Why does she wake up so early? Sherlock considered not getting up when he heard her singing. Curiosity got the better of him and so dragged himself out to see why she was so happy.

He wrapped the bed sheet around himself as he walked into the dining room. She looked ready for work and was cheerfully stirring a cup of tea when she noticed his presence.

"Morning, Sherlock," she called out brightly as she turned around.

Sherlock suddenly remembered the moment she spoke. He hung his head down in dread.

"Ugh. The game."

She giggled at his reaction. "Oh Sherlock, have a little faith in me! It's nothing drastic, I promise," she winked. Molly pushed a plate of scones and a cup of tea.

He sat down warily and watched her dig out a long velvety case out of her pocket and placed it in front of him.

After eyeing it suspiciously, he opened it up to confirm what he already knew.

"You want me to wear these?"

Molly nodded with happy enthusiasm. He scoffed at her before scowling down at the frames.

"Can we reconsider the consequences of our game?"

"They're not consequences," she tutted before pulling her most serious face.

"Is this break-up material?"

He blinked at her sudden change in demeanor. "No, but—"

"And did you not lose the game fair and square?"

"Yes, but—"

"Then I will trust you to keep your word," she said simply and let herself break into a warm smile again.

Sherlock stared at her incredulously for several seconds before sighing in defeat.

"Fine," he rolled his eyes. Molly couldn't help making a little hop at triumph.

"How long?" he asked as he picked up the glasses to try them on.

"Oh, not too long," She waved her hand dismissively. "Just until you grow your beard out."

His head snapped up to look at her in horror.

"A _beard_?!"

She doubled over at how scandalized he looked. Sherlock huffed as he waited for her to recover herself.

"Am I being punished for something?" he asked sourly.

"Of course not silly." Her eyes were shining in teary amusement. "I'm just curious to see what you look like that's all."

He put the glasses back down immediately and folded his arms in defiance. "I'm not growing out a beard."

"All right." Molly folded her arms as well. "Then you can wear the glasses indefinitely." Sherlock took one look at her and he realized she was serious about it.

"But I look so uncouth with facial hair!" he whined.

She leaned down to kiss his forehead, looking at him endearingly and said, "Let me be the judge of that."

Molly laughed again when Sherlock mumbled incoherently complaints under his breath and grabbed a scone to stuff into his mouth.

"I've got a shift this morning at the lab." She was walking towards the fireplace by the door to pick up her shoes.

"You're to wear them at all times" she explained as she slipped into her flats. "Unless you're sleeping or examining slides or something reasonable like that."

Sherlock chewed thoughtfully as he listened to her. He was already thinking up ways to avoid it. She must have sensed what he was trying to do for she whirled around to face him.

"Don't try to get out of this," Molly warned. "If you so much as try to undermine my request in any way, I swear I _will_ get creative." She grinned when he swallowed nervously and hugged the bed sheet closer to himself. Satisfied that he was going to cooperate, Molly finally turned away to leave.

"I'll tell you when your beard is sufficiently long enough. You should start growing it out today. Bye!" she added before closing the door behind her.

Sherlock sipped his tea as he glowered at the offensive case on the table. To be honest, he could tolerate wearing glasses.

_But a beard?_

Sherlock shook his head before smiling into his cup.

"Only for Molly."

* * *

**A/N: Ugh I have too much fun with these lovelies. Now I want to do another follow up for this and find out how everyone else reacts to the request *sigh***

**Thank you for reading! And writing reviews! They always make my day :)  
**


	9. Presumptuous

**A/N: So today I asked for prompts for the first time ever on Tumblr and managed to answer the very first one almost immediately! Well...I may have missed some elements of the prompt but it was fun to write anyway :D**

**Anyway! Prompt: Sherlock confesses to Molly about how he feels in his Sherlock-y way**

* * *

It was Saturday and Molly had nowhere to be and nothing to do. Normally she would be working, but apparently she's been working too much lately and was asked by her superior to take a break. It wasn't that she didn't need it. It's just that Molly had no clue what to do with her time.

Maybe I'll be masochistic and re-watch Game of Thrones, she thought as she prepared herself a cup of coffee. Speaking of masochism, Sherlock had just texted her.

_Need help with something. Come to Baker Street –SH_

She contemplated saying that she was busy when her phone buzzed again.

_I know you're not busy. Baker Street. Please –SH_

The last please sounded like an afterthought but it was an improvement. She really didn't have anything better to do anyway, and so she went to get changed.

* * *

—- 20 minutes later: At Baker Street —

Molly took a deep breath before reaching out to open the door. She hadn't been there since their 'you're-not-being-John-I'm-saying-thank-you-date—thing, she corrected herself, and was already questioning how good an idea it was to have come when Sherlock's enthusiastic voice startled her.

"Molly!" he said brightly. "So glad you could come."

Molly eyed him warily as she walked in. His cheerful demeanor was throwing her off. If she thought that was weird, him politely taking her coat to hang behind the door was downright alarming.

"Is something wrong?"

He paused at her question, a puzzled look on his face. "No, why?"

"I dunno, you're being…nice."

"Oh, don't be silly. I can be nice sometimes," he said as he grabbed her hand.

She was going to ask what the hell he was doing when she realized they weren't alone. An elderly couple was getting up from the couch. _Oh, clients? Why do they look like they're leaving though?_

Suddenly Molly was very conscious of their hands and tried to tug her hand, much to the surprising resistance from Sherlock.  
"Allow me to introduce you," Sherlock said casually.

"Molly, these are my parents. Mum, Dad this is Molly Hooper, my future girlfriend."

Molly whirled her head so fast she cricked her neck. Your what?! She continued to gawk at Sherlock—who wasn't looking at her— for several seconds before remembering her manners.

"Um, hello."

"Hello dear," the lady now identified as Sherlock said warmly. "Sherlock, this is wonderful! Sherlock, we can stay longer if—"

"Nope! You said you wanted to see her and you did." He finally let go of Molly's hand to usher his parents out of the room.

"Now I believe it's best you be off. We don't want you to miss that flight to Rome now do we?"

"But we haven't even—" his father started.

"I promise you will see her again in the near future. Have a safe flight!" He slammed the door at them and turned to look at her expectantly.  
Molly stood there in utter shock. Did that just—that just happened. _Okay_, she mentally calmed herself. _Take a deep breath and ask for an explanation. Sod this._

"Sherlock. What the hell! Since when was I your girlfriend!?"

"Future girlfriend," he corrected smoothly.

Molly was at a loss for words. Either Sherlock had just made the most presumptuous confession in the entire world, or he's messing with her for some reason. God, if he's pulling her leg.

She folded her arms and glared up at him. "Explain."

"I've been meaning to confess for quite some time—"

"Oh, you've been meaning to," she interrupted. Molly shook her head incredulously at him. "First time I hearing this but okay, carry on."

Her reaction must have had some effect on him for he continued in a less certain manner.

"Yes, well I was going to until it occurred to me that should the time come you might not actually believe me."

_Can you blame me?_

"I then thought it would be logical to introduce you to my parents—however briefly—beforehand. Luckily they had planned to drop by this weekend before their trip to Italy and so I got Stamford to force you into taking the day off to lure you here today."

Molly blinked furiously at his words. "That was you?" This man is unbelievable.

"My point is," he continued more rapidly, "I know I can be hurtful and make rash choices. But as manipulative as I like to be, I would never lie to my parents about matters of the heart. And so I hoped by expressing my desire in such a manner, I would be able to convince you of my sincerity."

She let a few moments pass in silence as she registered the significance of his words.  
"Sherlock!" He jumped at her outburst.

"That's not how you confess," she hiccupped a sob. _Damn, why is she crying?_ Sherlock seemed to have been wondering the same thing and was going to reach out when she waved him off.

"I'm fine, I'm just being sentimental."

"Oh," he pulled back his arm. "So is that a yes?" he asked cautiously.

"What?" she sniffed.

"To being my girlfriend?"

"You mean you made me go through all this and still wasn't sure I would actually say yes?"

Sherlock shuffled his feet nervously before answering.

"Well, I didn't want to be _presumptuous_."

Molly choked out a laugh as she wiped her tears. It's a bit too late for that, she thought.

"Yes I'll be your girlfriend."

His face broke into a wide smile.

"But you better give me a damn good first date," she added. She couldn't help smiling back at him.

"Okay." Sherlock clasped his hands behind his back and asked in attention.

"Molly, would you like to solve crimes together? Then go out for dinner later?"

She chuckled at his familiar stance. "Yes, very much."

* * *

**A/N: I'll post the second prompt right after this then retire for the night. I'll work on my other ongoing fics over the weekend and maybe squeeze in that Sherlock beard follow-up I mentioned in the previous chapter.**

**Thank you so, SO much for reading and reviewing, especially the reviewing because they're encouraging as heck.**


	10. Baking

**A/N: This was SO MUCH FUN to write. I had to stop myself from going over 2k words. This is the other prompt I answered today.**

**Prompt: Molly discovers that Sherlock can bake exceptionally well (because it's just chemistry), but he's more embarrassed about how she finds out then he lets on (because he's Sherlock, he'd brush it off). She decides to bake with him in hopes he'll be less embarrassed.**

* * *

Molly was very surprised to get a text message from the elder Holmes. After all, what would the British government want with her? It turns out that he did in fact need her help.

_Miss Hooper. I apologize for interrupting your late tea time, but I may need you to check on Sherlock. I fear my brother may be having a danger night. –MH_

She didn't bother wondering how he knew she was having tea at the moment. Molly was more concerned about the implications. John had mentioned to her before about 'danger night' and how Sherlock could get bored enough to dabble on narcotics. It would take too long for him to get to Sherlock, seeing how he and Mary lived outside of London. and if she recalled correctly, Mrs. Hudson was away for a niece's wedding. This might explain why Mycroft contacted her.

Sherlock hadn't shown any signs of a relapse at the lab today, but the fact that he was all alone without anyone to check up on him was disconcerting. Without a second thought, she got dressed and rushed off to hail a cab.

* * *

Baker Street certainly felt weird without Mrs. Hudson's telly playing or her occasional laugh. Molly knew there was no point in sneaking up on him, but she did her best to climb up the stairs as quietly as possible, only to find the door shut; no, locked.

That was her first warning bell. Molly dug into her bag to look for the spare key she never thought she would ever need with urgency. It was when he shakily fumbled the key into the keyhole that she noticed the bottom ledge had been sealed off with a cloth.

Terrible thoughts and scenarios were rushing through her head as she burst into the room.

"Sherlock! Are you okay?"

She was so panic driven that it took several seconds to notice that the room was filled with a sweet scented air, as if someone was…baking?

Molly walked further into the living room to look peak into the kitchen.

Sure enough, there was the consulting detective frozen in mid stance as he held a tray of freshly baked macarons. It was difficult to tell who was more shocked to see the other; Molly, who had been expecting to find him Od-ed on the floor somewhere or Sherlock who look positively scandalized at being caught wearing a checked purple apron and orange mitts.

"Um." Molly felt as if she had infringed on a very private moment and wasn't sure what to say next.

Sherlock was the first recover as he carefully put the tray on the counter before facing her with his usual mask of indifference.

"Hello, Molly. Would you mind shutting the door?"

Molly scuffled to close the door, and was relieved that Sherlock wasn't kicking her out yet.

"Sorry about the fuss," she apologized. "I thought something bad had happened to you."

"It's Mycroft isn't it?" He laughed bitterly when her nod confirmed his suspicions.

"Typical. What did he tell you? No don't tell me. He said that it's a 'danger night' right? "

Molly could only nod sheepishly. She suddenly felt very foolish about the whole thing. Instead, she chose to examine what he had made; macaroons, eclairs, napoleons. There was quite the assortment of desserts.

"So," she nodded impressively. "You bake."

"Yes," he replied tersely.

"Are you opening up a pastry shop?" she giggled.

"No."

It could have been the heat, but Molly would have sworn that Sherlock's face flushed at her jibe. It then occurred to her that he might be embarrassed about the whole thing, not that he would ever admit it, but she could see how he would be self-conscious about the whole thing. She looked at the different pastries on the table for a talking point when she noticed a certain pastry on the table.

"Is that a baklava?! It looks so perfect," she gushed. He glanced at the dessert.

"Oh that? It's elementary."

Molly huffed at his arrogance. "Don't make fun of my skills. The phyllo dough always breaks when I try to make it."

He quirked an eyebrow at her. "You bake?" Now it was her turn to blush.

"I've never seen any indication of that at your flat."

"I used to be a die hard baker during my uni days, though I admit I had more fun eating. But I haven't baked in years" she explained. He seemed satisfied with that answer as he wrapped up the macarons with parchment. Molly shifted nervously as she asked.

"Can I help?"

He eyed her carefully for several seconds. Molly figured he knew what she was trying to do but didn't let it discourage her.

"If you're not done, I mean."

"Fine," he relented. I'm making a black forest next, you can start on that. An apron is in that drawer, the grocery bags over there and are some clean bowls in the cupboard to your right."

They worked in comfortable silence for a while as Molly mixed ingredients together and he meticulously stacked the desserts in the fridge, which was surprised to notice was free of body parts. He eventually joined in to help prepare the cake and argued good-naturedly about techniques—'I know my chemistry Molly, you can't win this'—he kept reminding her. So she chose to tease about their matching aprons.

After an hour of amiable conversations, Molly finally braved up to ask the question that was lingering in her mind.

"So can I ask why are you baking all of this?"

"It's Mycroft's birthday tomorrow," he said without missing a beat.

Molly narrowed her eyes at him. It was highly unlikely that he was doing this out of brotherly love.

"I'm surprised you even know that."

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Yes, I can't quite seem to be able to delete familial dates or obligations very easily. But no matter," he said cheerfully, "I do so love to torture him with baked goods he can't eat."

Ah, so that's the catch. "So you're making pastries he can't eat, because it's his birthday?"

"Yup" he said, popping the last consonant.

Molly was confused. "Why, is he on a diet or something?"

"And he's lactose intolerant," he added mischievously.

"Sherlock!" Molly swatted his shoulder playfully. "That's awful." He gave a hearty laugh at her reaction.

"He deserves it."

"I'm sure you think he does." Molly shook her head. Then it hit her.

"Oh! So that's why he wanted me to come here. It's his danger night."

Sherlock eyed her with mock surprise. "Wow, that took an hour too long for you to realize."

"Shut up," she bumped against him. He pulled up his dashing smirk in response.

"Wait, why are you so sure he's going to eat them? He could just throw them away."

"He wouldn't. To Mycroft, wasting dessert is a crime worse than treason."

Sherlock snickered wickedly. "He'll just have to run on the treadmill for a few months to burn these off. Hey!"

Molly had swiped a bit of cake batter on his cheek. Molly giggled in triumph until she saw him take a large scoop from the bowl. Her eyes widened in horror.

"William Sherlock Scott Holmes if you dare" she warned, backing away from the kitchen. He was approaching her menacingly with the big blob of batter in his hand, ready to chuck it at her.

"You started this."

"But the cake!"

"I have more ingredients to make another batch."

Without warning he hurled the mixture at her, right in the face.

"Sherlock!" she screeched as he doubled over in laughter.

"You will pay."

* * *

Mycroft didn't get an update from Molly regarding Sherlock that night. He could only hope that revealing Sherlock's culinary skills would spare him for another year. Having John as a roommate had interrupted his brother's antics, but now with the doctor happily married off, he had reason to be concerned about the cruel tradition resuming. So it was much to his dismay when he got twice the quantity of cakes and desserts he had ever received at a time the next day.

* * *

**A/N: I tried very, VERY hard not to go through with that food fight. The story was going to get very long and very dirty veeeerrry fast. *pats self proudly on the back***

**I hope you liked it :)**

**As always, thanks for reading! And reviewing! Heck even if you review a smiley face I will still get giddy.**


	11. Say Goodbye

**Summary: Sherlock tries not to say goodbye to Molly before his exile, not even after he might have a reason to when he comes back.**

**A/N****: It's a Tumblr songfic prompt for the song 'Four Walls' by Little Mix. Beautiful song (you should check it out) but I don't know if I did it justice. I know songfics with lyrics aren't allowed on FFn so I just took the lyrics out. I'm not sure if the story still works. It's a bit sad (if you hear the song you will find out almost instantly how sad) but I was asked to give it a happy ending so it's in there...somewhere.  
**

**I highly encourage you to listen to the song before you read it, but you don't have to.**

**Thank you for reading!**

* * *

Maybe she should have called in sick today. It wasn't just an ordinary day for her friends, for her.

She stared at her reflection in the bathroom mirror. It was blurry from the steam from the shower, though she already knew her eyes must still be red from crying.

She knew she counted, and it meant the world to her that he called, but she didn't know if it would have been better if he hadn't. She tear tried to fall down her cheek but she stubbornly wiped it away.

"It's fine," she insisted to herself. "I'm fine."

With that new resolve, she got the courage to leave the bathroom.

She walked to the dining table and stared her abandoned cup of coffee on her table. It's probably cooled by now. 'Black, two sugars.'

She grimaced slightly at the memory. It was starting already, dredging up memories of a loved one, as if he was already gone. She grabbed the cup and dumped it in the sink. She considered taking a fruit with her, but decided she wasn't hungry.

Toby brushed her legs slightly on her way out. She bent down to stroke his head before closing the door behind her. And so she began the first day of the rest of her life without him.

* * *

He called her last night.

In all the years they had never known each other, he never had or ever intended to.

'I prefer to text,' he once told her. 'Don't call me, I won't pick up, nor should you expect me to ever call. If it's important, I will text.'

It was an unrealistic condition, especially as they got closer over the years. He assumed it would happen one day, but never expected he would be the one to initiate it.

He didn't have much time before his phone was confiscated forever. He had been in captivity for almost 2 weeks since shooting Magnussen. New Years had come and gone, but he hadn't called her, not really.

There were times where he believed he had, only to realize his mind was playing tricks with him. The longer he delayed it, the harder it was to actually do it. What made it harder was the reason why he wanted to hear her voice. Now he only had two hours and forty-seven minutes to do something about it.

He let out a breath as he brought the phone to his ear. It felt like an eternity as the phone rang on; he half-hoped she wouldn't answer, until she did.

"Hello? Sherlock?"

He cleared his throat. "Yes."

"Sorry, I wasn't sure if it was you—" She took a deep breath.

"—It's just that, you've never called."

"I know."

"Okay." He heard her shift around uncomfortably and realized he might have missed something. Suddenly he remembered.

"Oh, um. Hi."

"Hi." He heard the smile behind that, and relaxed slightly.

"John told me," she began. "About your mission I mean."

Sherlock flinched at her words. He knew he should have told her.

"It's fine. I didn't expect you to tell me anyway."

He could hear her trying to smile it off, but he knew she was sad. He was starting too see he did that too often. He opened his mouth to say something, anything, but he didn't know what to do, so he remained silent.

"You're not coming back this time, are you?"

"I'm afraid not. You can only save me so many times I suppose, " he joked.

"Don't make jokes Sherlock. You're as bad as I am." He heard her chuckle and his chest warmed up with relief.

"So" she continued, some ounce of brightness came back to her voice. "What do you need?"

"You—" he began before correcting himself. "—to talk. Talk about anything."

"I don't know what to talk about."

"The weather?" he offered.

"That's mundane. You don't like mundane."

"Mundane can be good."

"How about autopsies?"

He smiled at her suggestion. "That works."

So she did talk about autopsies, and the weather, and anything else that came to mind. As they talked, he tried to build up the courage to tell her.

Eventually they fell into a comfortable silence although he still didn't want to end it. But he was desperate, and so came forward with himself.

"I wasn't sorry." He blurted out.

"What?"

"That your engagement is over. I meant what I said."

"Sherlock wait—"

"I realize now that my interest and remarks about you and your romantic developments weren't entirely platonic concerns."

Her silence was difficult to interpret. He knew it wouldn't change anything, and if it did it would be for the worse, but he wanted to try.

"I know it's selfish to say it now, but Molly I—"

"Wait, don't." she interrupted. He could hear her voice break.

"Not now, not like this. I can't—" she choked back a sob. His chest constricted at the pain in her voice.

"It's fine. You don't have to do this. It's probably your mortality speaking."

"It's not—"

"Please." She begged.

He fell silent. She was right. He knew it wasn't fair. He couldn't do that to her. He could shoulder it as his punishment for taking too long.

"Okay."

He wracked his mind to diffuse the tense silence that followed but was interrupted by reality.

"Your time is almost up Mr. Holmes." Sherlock looked up to see the guard reaching out for the phone. "I have one more minute," he retorted back. Inside he was panicking. Had so much time passed? He relaxed slightly when the guard took a step back.

"Sherlock?" He shut his eyes as he savored the sound of his name through her voice.

"Yes, Molly?"

"I'm glad you called me. I will miss you."

His next words got stuck in his throat and so he nodded, even though he knew she wouldn't see it.

"I guess this is goodbye then?" She didn't try to sound cheerful that time.

He couldn't bring himself to say it. He didn't want to finalize the conversation anymore than was possible. So he chose to be selfish one more time.

"Can you hang up first? For me."

He felt a bit proud when she didn't hesitate. It would have hurt more if she had lingered. For that, he was thankful. He reluctantly gave up his last form of communication and sat in darkness as he let the regret creep into his heart.

The work wasn't a good distraction for her after all. She was back to thinking about last night. She didn't sleep; how could she after that call?

She didn't take offense to his last request though. She knew he was sad; that's why he called in the first place right? It was easier to believe this than to consider what he had tried to say.

She glanced up at the clock. He should have left by now. Sighing, she walked back to her office and stopped short at the door. She looked on in horror as Moriarty's face was playing on her computer screen. What scared her most was the foreign blinking she soon noticed under the desk.

She ran as far as she could to get away, but the disaster followed after her, and soon darkness engulfed everything.

* * *

One of the first things he made sure to do after exiting was to call the plane. Everyone else had been accounted for after the broadcast except her. Why wasn't she picking up? The car ride was mostly silent as they left the airstrip, until Mycroft picked up a call.

The uncertain glance his brother threw him told him everything.

"Tell me."

"Before I explain—"

He shut his eyes hard in frustration.

"Just. Say it."

"A bomb was detonated at Barts."

His eyes flew open and searched his brother's face for the lie. There was none. Something fell away inside at the realization, and it was rapidly being replaced by fear.

"And—" he had to swallow painfully. He just wanted to retreat into his mind and shut everything out, but he needed to know.

"—and the source?"

He didn't miss the hesitation in his voice when he said it.

"The morgue."

* * *

He stayed in the hospital. They wouldn't let anyone visit, but an exception was made for him, on the condition that he didn't touch her.

It was more than he could have asked for. The sentimental war going on in his head was overwhelming. His anger and guilt was festering into and rage and despair.

It was for all that happened, and despair for all that would. He knew he should try to shut it out. Sentiment would be obsolete in the cause to catch the criminal. But he didn't want to, nor could he even if he wanted to.

* * *

His eyes were shut as he sat quietly beside her. The slow beeping of the monitors in the room was the only reassurance she was in the room, that she wasn't gone yet.

He would look for him tomorrow. For that night, he would let the regret consume him.

* * *

He called her every day now. He promised himself he would after his return and so he did, even if wasn't in the way he wanted.

'Hi! You've reached Molly Hooper's home. I'm sorry I missed your call. I'm probably busy…or sleeping…or busy sleeping. Anyway, if it's urgent, try my mobile; I always have it with me. Otherwise leave a message and I'll get back to you as soon I can. Thanks!'

Sherlock hung up, and called again.

'Hi! You've reached Molly Hooper's home. I'm sorry I missed your call. I'm probably busy…or sleeping…or busy sleeping. Anyway, if it's urgent, try my mobile; I always have it with me. Otherwise leave a message and I'll get back to you as soon I can. Thanks!'

He never left a message—there was no point—for he knew she wasn't home. It didn't stop him from calling. It was almost a routine now, as it was the only way he could hear her voice.

Moriarty had come too close to burning his heart out. She was alive, but she wasn't waking up. She could come back today or tomorrow, or never at all. He focused on the positive aspect of the prognosis.

He called again, this time while facing her. The burns had long healed, and most of the scars were fading; the problem had been the blow. He reached out to pull back a wisp of her hair. It had grown longer since she last saw him. He saw her almost every day though.

He hung up once more, and took the seat beside her. Barts had always been his home away from home, but she was always at the center. He knew that now.

He wasn't angry at himself anymore about what happened; that abated after his manhunt for Moriarty. The only reason he didn't kill the culprit was because he knew the government wouldn't let him murder twice; he didn't want to leave her again.

It didn't mean he forgave himself. Instead he could talk to her, and focus on getting her ready to come back. He read medical journals and publications so she wouldn't miss much. If he thought it was interesting, he would share his cases. He avoided cases that caused him to leave the city for too long. He wanted to be around if—when she woke up.

And every time he saw her, he ended the visit with the same action. He would kiss her forehead and ask her for one thing.

"Don't let me say goodbye."

* * *

He found himself at her flat on the days he needed to sleep. Her scent wasn't gone yet, and he found that being there was reassuring. It was enough to get by.

He turned on the bed and faced her side. It wasn't difficult to imagine her there; he had watched her sleep when he used the room as a bolt hole. He was afraid of forgetting her warm brown eyes, so he imagined her just looking back at him, smiling.

If she spoke, it was always a playback of their last conversation. It hurt to remember, but it was so much better than the silence.

The phone suddenly interrupted his reminiscence. He got up suddenly and scrambled to reach for it. He never allowed anyone to call him unless it was about her.

"John, what is it?"

"It's Molly…"

* * *

His heart thundered as he made his way down the familiar halls of the hospital. It took everything in him to remember not to run to her room.

John and Mary were surrounding her bedside. He walked slowly towards the foot of the bed as they moved back for him to see her.

Molly's eyes were open and they were crinkled into a slight smile. She looked tired, and the smile was weak, but it was as genuine as he had ever seen.

Now that she was here he was almost at a loss of what to say. Eventually he managed to think of something.

"Hi."

"Hi," she whispered.

Mary quietly tugged John out of the room. He barely noticed as he focused his gaze on her. He was almost afraid to blink, lest he finds out it was a hallucination, and that she wasn't back again.

"I…"

He could tell she was having a difficult time articulating, so he shook his head to discourage it, but she relented.

"I…heard…you."

He smiled warmly down at her. He was aware that his eyes stung, but emotional vulnerability was the least of his concerns at the moment.

He took the familiar seat beside the bed and held her hand. It was faint, but she managed to squeeze. He brought her fingers up to his cheek and gently squeezed back.

"Welcome back," he choked out. God, he was so happy to see her eyes again.

"You…too."

They let him stay overnight that day. Like his other visits, he talked to her. Talking made her tired, so he insisted she just listen. He could wait to hear her again tomorrow. He was content seeing her eyes react; it was so much more than he had gotten in such a long time.

He only stopped speaking when she began to doze off. He watched her eventually shut her eyes, but he wasn't sad about it anymore. She would open her eyes tomorrow. That guarantee was enough to let him relax. While still holding her hand, he lay his head beside the bed and let himself sleep.

* * *

**A/N****: I had a lot of issues with this story. It took me days to finish it but I'm kind of proud for not giving up on it altogether. Now I can focus on those WIP fics I should have updated over the weekend.**

**Please review if you liked it, hated it, whatever. I will be happy to read your responses (extra happy if they're positive though of course lol). **

******Thank you so much for reading! **  



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